


Half of you, Half of me

by BurntToast



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff, Light-Hearted, Mentions of death: Becca, Quinn is alive, Slow Burn, The Half of It AU, probably in here at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntToast/pseuds/BurntToast
Summary: The half of it auToni agrees to help write a letter.-(everyone lives in Minnesota, don't question it)
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe, more ships to come - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Half of you, Half of me

**Author's Note:**

> This chap is a good deal of world/story set up.  
> Updates will probably be slow because I'm at uni, so sorry in advance.
> 
> First multi-chap, be gentle. Hope you enjoy and feel free to leave comments for what you would like to see in future chapters:)

Honestly Toni doesn’t fucking understand. It is a no-nothing town in the middle of nowhere Minnesota, where everyone knows everyone, and nothing ever changes. Privileged pageant queen Texans certainly don’t belong, and yet there Shelby was with her brand name jeans and perfectly manicured nails sticking out like a sore thumb. Genuinely, Toni cannot fathom how other people don’t see through that bullshit façade. Minnesota snows 5 months out of the year and dumps buckets of rain for the rest, which means there is absolutely no place for perky rays of sunshine with Southern accents. Nonetheless in the span of a year after she transferred in, Toni watched her scale the ladder of social hierarchy to take her rightful place on the throne as self-proclaimed do-gooder princess. Somehow charming (read: deceiving) what seems like an entire population into believing that whole bubbly positivity act.

And it’s not like she spends a whole lot of time thinking about the Jesus-loving con woman, but Martha has an affinity for shiny new things, so escape isn’t exactly an option with Martha practically gorilla glued to Shelby’s side. Plus, her duties as best friend state she must protect naïve Martha from pretty, meddling, menaces. An addendum might have been added to the imagined contract when Shelby came along to that specific rule, but Toni still signed with bold, dark ink in her mind all the same.

Spending a blissful summer away from Shelby with her off on some grand vacation at a family lake house—because of fucking course she would—had allowed Toni a short reprieve. Two months of pure relaxation outside of prying green eyes to just work and rekindle the slightly strained friendship with Martha, who was… less than thrilled by their apparent inability to get along. It had been wonderful. So, the last thing she expects out of senior year is for Rachel to throw her straight into the fire on day one.

“I’m sorry you want me to do what?” Toni is pretty sure she misheard. There is no way. But as she stares at Rachel in disbelief her face remains dead serious.

“I need you to help me write a letter to Shelby,” Rachel repeats, huffing with apparent annoyance at Toni’s slack jawed expression. But seriously, what did she expect cornering her in the gym after practice to ask such a ridiculous favor?

And the thing is, they’re not even really friends. Sure, all athletes sort of know each other in that ‘we’re currently running on 4 hours of sleep and every part of my body hurts’ solidarity type of way, but Toni could probably count the number of their solo interactions on one hand. Typically, Rachel was way too high-strung and intense for her liking. But still, from what she knows about her, this request is far outside standard character patterns.

It takes a few awkward seconds of tense silence before Toni is able to move her tongue well enough to formulate a coherent thought. “For what possible reason?” she begins slowly, even though she knows exactly why.

“Because I like her,” Rachel states bluntly, so matter-of-fact, as if it’s not a totally absurd idea or completely out of the realm of normal behavior.

“What the fuck, why?”

The diver simply shrugs, “She’s pretty, nice, and a go-getter. I like that.”

“Okay…” Toni drawls, still uncertain of her potential role in this endeavor as she shifts her bookbag higher up on her shoulder, “So why do you need me?” Which is a valid question—of all people, Toni was not the one for this job.

“Because you’re tight with her,” Toni nearly interrupts at that assumption alone, but bites her tongue at the clear frustration leaking into Rachel’s face, “ and I can’t ask Martha, you know she would get all doe-eyed about it and run straight to Shelby. Nora is no help either. Her and Quinn have that whole weird ‘love at first sight’ bullshit that I don’t get, but whatever. You’re the next best thing.”

“So I’m your last resort, essentially.”

“Yup.”

“And you can’t do this on your own because…?” Toni trails off, still somewhat reeling about the odd events unfolding. She never pegged Rachel to be a wuss; she’s a ‘grab the bull by the horns’ (and then probably chuck the bull clear across the room for getting in her way) kind of girl. Toni is genuinely confused why Rachel of all people would be asking for help, let alone asking _her_ for help.

Something about the question must strike a chord though, because the diver’s bravado falters and her earlier frustration seems to ebb into nervousness as she deflates, clasping her hands in front of her tightly as if to keep them from fidgeting. “Honestly? I’ve been so caught up with diving that I never entertained the idea of relationships before. I’ve never had one—period.” And Toni has never really thought about that, but it makes sense. She’s never actually seen Rachel interested in anyone or hang out with someone who wasn’t a teammate or her sister. “But it’s my senior year,” she continues, “I’m already committed—not to Stanford like I wanted but that’s beside the point—and I like Shelby, so I figured why the hell not you know? And you’re good with girls from what I hear,” the pointed look seems unnecessary, but Toni lets it slide, “So I need you. And I’ll even pay for it.”

Maybe it’s the rarity of Rachel actually opening up. Or maybe it’s the way she lifts her chin to feign confidence despite the lingering hopefulness in her eyes. Whatever it is, Toni can’t help but remember what an anxious bundle of nerves she was when her and Regan were first starting out. Barely able to make eye contact, persistently tongue-tied, with her heart beating so wildly she worried it would literally fly out of her chest whenever Regan so much as smiled in her direction. Toni nearly grins thinking about what a bumbling mess she was back then, but refrains, sighing deeply instead as her resolve begins to crumble.

Rachel must take the action as a good sign because her lips twitch upward, shoulders squaring before Toni even starts to accept this ludicrous proposal. After all, she has to start paying for college somehow. “50 bucks, one letter. That’s it,” a full toothy grin blooms on the diver’s face at the affirmation, but Toni holds up a hand to stop her from getting too excited, “Just for the record, I think love letters are outdated, but I know Shelby would probably eat that shit up, so we can give it a try. Also, I hope you realize you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. She’s got a boyfriend and with all her fucking Jesus-talk I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s some religious homophobe.”

Rachel seems to sober up a little at that thought, enthusiasm dimming slightly, but Toni reassures her that they will figure out a game plan in the next few days to get the ball rolling which keeps the light in her eyes from winking out completely. Dread begins to curdle in her gut as she watches Rachel walk out of the gym, throwing a curt wave and tightlipped smile over her shoulder in gratitude. It feels awkwardly like one of those moments at the end of a job interview where she can’t tell whether it went well or not.

In theory, her task is simple: help Rachel write a letter. One letter, then wipe her hands clean and try to forget this exchange ever happened. But something about it feels off, like a storm cloud of repercussions looming overhead, threatening to rain down and soak through her flimsy clothing. Now Toni has done a lot of stupid shit in her life. Lost her temper or been too impulsive and experienced that instant regret sensation more times than she bothers to keep track of. And this? This pivotal moment feels exactly like that. A hot flash followed by icy tendrils snaking along her spine, stomach bottoming out like it does at the fair on that mega drop ride, shooting her up three stories just to freefall. Truthfully, she always hated those types of attractions the most; her small frame never quite secure enough in the harnesses. And if Martha ever says she cried the first time they rode it together, she is a cold-blooded liar and should never be trusted. But realizing what Toni just agreed to definitely has that flying out of her seat, facing certain death vibe. She just doesn’t know why. Yet.

-

The frigid night air on her walk home helps numb some of the uneasy energy still coursing through her, and by the time she reaches Martha’s house she’s a bit more settled. More confident in her decision. Seriously, it’s one stupid fucking letter to someone who will be none the wiser and, in all likelihood, won’t even respond. The consequences to Toni personally would be minimal; she can do Rachel a solid and cash-in in the process. Win-win.

Mentioning it to Martha would kind of defeat the purpose of the whole masked identity behind the curtain thing, so she keeps the development to herself through dinner and their nighttime routine. However, the words feel lodged in her throat the entire time, trying in vain to claw their way out, but she chokes them down. Toni isn’t used to keeping secrets. Never really saw the point or benefit of lying, or omission, or whatever you want to call it. That’s not to say the moral dilemma comes before protecting her loved ones; Martha’s past for one is something she will take to the grave.

But it’s the little white lies that she is embarrassingly terrible at. Her delivery always comes off shaky at best, a sweaty nervous wreck at worst. Regan used to tease mercilessly over her complete inability to even keep it together long enough to sneak candy into the movie theatre, developing a suspicious tremor in her hands and voice notching up an octave. Toni thinks that it’s less the act of lying and more the hyperawareness of pretending to appear calm. Control has never been her strong suit, to say the least. Her mouth often runs off before her brain has a chance to catch up and her limbs seem to have a mind of their own sometimes. Especially when that bad temper flairs up: all semblance of self-control flies right out the window, almost like a grid blackout where the wires connecting rational thought and bodily mechanics temporarily stop passing signals. She supposes the same rules apply for keeping secrets. Her tendency to blurt the first thing that pops into her head for the most part negates any effort to stay quiet and attempting to restrict every impulsive movement or wayward twitch is simply out of the question.

And lying to Martha? That just isn’t done. Toni might have learned over time how to better regulate her words or actions to spare her best friend’s feelings, but keeping secrets was never part of the deal. They are sisters after all, maybe not by blood, but sisters through and through. They know everything about each other, grew up together. Hell, Toni sleeps on a mattress on the floor of her bedroom, so if their bond alone didn’t force them to reveal every sordid detail of their lives, the lack of privacy certainly made sure of it. Not that Toni minds; Martha is her person. So, laying down only feet away from her best friend, dying to spill her guts over the recent events of the day, quite frankly sucks.

Thank god it’s just one letter. It would probably only take 20 minutes out of her day to proofread whatever sappy shit Rachel wants to say, which of course nothing will come of, and then she’ll home free to tell Martha everything. Toni is sure they will have a good laugh about the little blip in judgement and forget all about it. Seriously, she needs to chill out, it’s not a big deal.

-

When Toni says escaping Shelby’s presence is an impossibility, she means it literally. Sometimes she wonders if the Texan secretly practiced ninja training, sneaking around and popping up out of nowhere to scare the living daylights out of her. It’s not like she hasn’t tried evasion tactics either, once spending two entire days skulking about the halls of the school: avoiding communal spaces, peaking around corners for wisps of blonde hair, listening intently for that tell-tale Southern accent before leaving classrooms. But alas Shelby had thwarted her plans time and time again, appearing beside her on her way to the gym, poking her head into the bathroom, tapping her shoulder when she needed a book from her locker. Each time flashing a sweet smile as if she didn’t just send Toni’s heartrate skyrocketing into space.

The stealth effort clearly hadn’t lasted long, and unless Toni was willing to give up seeing Martha throughout the day (which she certainly was not), dealing with Shelby’s ninja ways became an obligatory hazard. It’s almost funny that this thought plagues her as she stuffs her lab journal into her locker, when she surprisingly hadn’t actually seen Shelby yesterday. Toni wonders if maybe she just hasn’t gotten back—

“Hey there!”

“Fuck!”

Toni’s stomach plummets as she nearly launches out of her own skin, the contents of her bookbag spilling across the tile floor as it flies from her hands. People around them stare curiously at the loud outburst and clattering. She sucks down air, willing her heartrate to calm down where it knocks violently against her ribcage with the sudden adrenaline rush pumping through her veins.

Familiar laughter erupts beside her and Toni huffs angrily, whirling to see Shelby dressed prim and proper as usual, grinning widely with maniacal delight. She quickly clamps a hand over her mouth to smother the fits of giggling when she sees the fury on Toni’s face as she grinds her teeth.

“Sorry,” Shelby starts, failing miserably to sound genuinely contrite with the amusement still dancing in her eyes, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Toni just rolls her eyes, hoping the flush warming her cheeks isn’t too obvious, and bending to collect her wayward belongings. “You know stalking is frowned upon in most cultures,” she bites, ripping the papers out of Shelby’s hands where she has mirrored her squat position to help gather the scattered contents, “Not to mention murder. Pretty sure you just gave me a fucking heart attack.”

The Texan crinkles her nose, lips pursing to suppress another unwelcome smile. Because of course she would enjoy this torment, why should Toni expect anything less. Maybe this is how those comic book heroes feel when facing their archnemesis, she thinks, annoyance flaring as they simultaneously rise to stand. Her stomach flipping uncomfortably as Shelby regards her, the hint of unchecked glee lingering on her face.

“Is there a reason you’re so jumpy?” Shelby goads, tucking her hands behind her back as she leans forward into Toni’s space.

Toni can’t help but recoil, shifting back slightly, as the sweet floral scent of perfume wafts up her nostrils. “Yeah, there’s this Jesus lover who has a bad habit of creeping. She’s like a leech, just can’t seem to get rid of her.”

“You know, God tells us to love thy neighbor. Maybe you just need to learn to be a little more accepting Toni,” Shelby replies back sweetly, laying the Southern accent on thick.

“Yeah well, the Homeowner’s Association can kiss my ass, I’m not baking a fucking casserole.”

The urge to stick out her tongue strikes so fast she nearly gives in to the childish impulse, but luckily snaps her jaw shut just in time, teeth rattling at the force. She has been told before that particular gesture is ‘unladylike’. So instead, Toni narrows her eyes, throwing as much loathing into the look as possible before brushing past, making sure to clip the blonde’s shoulder in the process.

Although apparently, her message to ‘fuck off’ isn’t clear enough because Shelby falls into step beside her like nothing happened, or maybe she just doesn’t give a shit. Either way they walk side by side toward the cafeteria where Toni knows Martha is waiting for them.

Other than the occasional bump of their arms as they meander through the halls, silence fills the space between them and it’s strangely comfortable. Despite the animosity, things have never felt awkward (a fact Toni tries not to dwell on often). Sure, they might serve barbs like a tennis match, rallying back and forth in this little game for two they play, but it’s only natural. Competitiveness runs in her blood after all; always has since she was a kid picking up a basketball for the first time, rough housing with the boys and refusing to give up or even sleep until she won. Her foster parents were less than pleased with that particular brand of stubbornness, but Toni liked to think of it more as ‘strategic determination’. Without the height or bulk size advantage, she needed to be smarter, grittier, more aggressive, to make up the difference. She takes pride in the talent and reputation she cultivated on the court. Granted her ego has led her astray once or twice, but no one could deny her value. Not even her coach, who ended up reinstating her on the team after the unfortunate piss incident. He wanted to win, and Toni knew damn well they wouldn’t be doing any of that without her.

But with Shelby the game is all mental. A verbal sparring match that requires complete focus. It can be draining, but also sort of exhilarating. Neither ever willing to back down or give up the fight, the Texan nearly as tenacious as her. Of course, Toni doesn’t actually enjoy being in her presence more than absolutely necessary, the thrill of the game solely reliant on successfully in riling Shelby up, but still. A good round, trading blows—it might even rival that shot clock winding down, sinking the game winner sensation. That same heady buzz of adrenaline, feeling high despite the exhaustion sinking into her limbs. So yeah, their interactions might be tense, frustrating, exciting, but never awkward. And this silence is like a temporary ceasefire, a chance to recharge and reload ammunition for the next battle.

Maybe that subtle ruthless quality is something Rachel likes about Shelby. To each their own, Toni supposes, as they enter the lunchroom and take their usual spots on either side of Martha. Guess the newfound routine from last year won’t be changing anytime soon.

-

Pre-season practice is grueling. Getting into shape is a necessary evil leading up to season, but Toni is fairly certain her coach sadistically relishes the pain incurred through conditioning circuits. She says as much on her way out the gym, once her breathing finally returns to a semi-normal state, but he just laughs, patting the top of her head like she is no more than a pouting puppy and blatantly ignoring her scowl.

Beads of sweat drip down the sides of her temple and she pulls up the collar of her shirt to wipe at her face, momentarily blinded by the fabric as she rounds the corner into the hall. Completely unaware of the person marching on a mission around that same corner until she slams into a solid wall of muscle.

“ _Oof!_ What the fuck?” A strong pair of hands wrap around her upper arms to steady her, and Toni immediately slaps them away, verbal onslaught already cocked and ready to rip. But when she looks into the face of her assailant, she’s surprised to see Rachel standing there, with arms now crossed and eyebrows raised, clearly unamused, as if Toni were the one at fault here. “Dude. Watch where you’re going maybe?”

“You stink.”

“I had practice.”

“Shower next time maybe?” Rachel retorts quickly, mirroring her sarcasm.

Toni doesn’t exactly know what to say to that without opening a can of worms. Awkward silence hangs in the air between them, as they take each other in. Diving practice must have just ended as the scent of chlorine hits her nose and she spies the telltale team tracksuit Rachel seems to live in. Toni could take a guess as to why the diver had rushed to catch her at the gym, but honestly, she would rather not deal with any more Shelby infatuation while her limbs recover from the jell-o like state the last few hours of torture had reduced her to. And frankly she’s still a little pissed about getting the shit scared out of her not once, but _twice_ today. Not her finest hours. 

She sweeps away the hair clinging to her forehead, shifting her gym bag higher on her shoulder. The longer the silence stretches on the more visibly uncomfortable Rachel becomes, that mild annoyance slipping away as nervous apprehension twists her mouth. Toni cocks an eyebrow in question, counting down from 10 in her head as the desperate need for a hot shower and warm bed weighs on her patience. She gets to two before Rachel finally gives in, digging around in her pocket and hurriedly thrusting a slightly crumpled piece of paper out in front of her. Damn.

“Here,” she rushes out, grabbing Toni’s hand and forcing the paper into her palm, “Take it.”

Resisting the urge to physically bang her head against the wall, Toni folds her fingers around the note, struggling to keep the exasperation from her face, but only halfway succeeds, unable to stop an involuntary eye roll. _Is one night of peace too much to ask?_ Apparently yes, if Rachel’s clenched jaw and tightly clasped hands are anything to go by.

“Alright, come on,” Toni relents, motioning for Rachel to follow as she steps around her and leads the way down the hall. There is an almost eerie quality walking through the school with it near empty like this, wandering the corridors with only the sound of their shoes slapping against the tile flooring to fill the spaces of silence as the flickering fluorescents bath the halls in harsh light. If Toni hadn’t already been in this position of sneaking about the barren halls before she might have gotten the heebie-jeebies. Luckily, it’s that previous experience that guides her to the music room.

The saxophone wasn’t just a convenient instrument for the art credit; Regan genuinely loved it. There was something about the deep tones, the range and riffs, the soul of the beat that called to something inside her. “ _In a past life I was a jazz musician I think,_ ” she had told Toni once, quiet but utterly sure as if she could see it, could feel the packed club and smell the hazy cigar smoke floating in the air. Despite the fluttering in her stomach Toni had let Regan pull her through the dark, vacant halls of the school late one night. Grinning mischievously as she pressed open the door, yanking Toni inside the music room and sat her down in the front row of chairs. According to Regan, the acoustics were apparently better, and the professor tended to be too frazzled most days to remember to lock up, she explained as she took her time pulling out the golden instrument from the case that seemed perpetually glued to her side. Toni waited patiently, knee bouncing as she listened intently for any outside noise that might indicate imminent capture. But all her worry melted away as Regan took a deep breath, brought the mouthpiece to her lips and began to play. It was like being transported back in time, to another life, watching the girl she loved take center stage as the haunting, beautiful melody drifted throughout the room. Wrapping Toni up in the otherworldliness of her nimble fingers expertly finding the keys, the smooth notes ringing out, and clear joy written across Regan’s face as her eyes closed and she swayed to the beat. Just when she thought she couldn’t love Regan more, the music reached a crescendo and Toni felt the love inside her swell with it.

Toni’s lips tug upward at the fond memory as she tries the familiar door handle and feels it give under the pressure. Glancing around quickly, she quietly pushes it open and ushers Rachel inside before flipping on the lights. It looks the same as it did that night and something sharp pangs behind her ribs, but Toni ignores it for the time being. Turning to Rachel, she gestures to the row of chairs for her to sit. The other girl follows the command without question, leaning her elbows onto her knees, body tensing in anticipation.

“You’re gonna pop a fucking vein in your forehead if you don’t chill out,” Toni reprimands as she plops down beside her, purposefully taking her time to stretch out while carefully unfolding the letter. If she has to endure a late night for this, she sure as hell won’t be handing out the simple satisfaction of a quick read. The tension creasing Rachel’s brow doesn’t ease, but the frustration of Toni’s slow movements causes her to sit back, crossing her arms over her chest instead of that rigid hunched stance so… mission accomplished?

The note isn’t particularly long at first glance, Rachel’s perfectly neat handwriting almost making her chuckle. The painstakingly sharp points of each letter a glaring contrast to Toni’s own messy scrawl. Despite the best efforts of her teachers over the years, her writing never reached pristine condition, only made worse with learning cursive as her letters began to bleed together. It is a miracle that anyone is capable of reading her papers at all. Refocusing on the task at hand, Toni begins to skim the note.

_To Shelby Goodkind,_

“You realize you’re not sending a fucking job resume right?”

“Shut up.”

_I have seen you around school and I think you are cool or whatever. You seem like someone with goals and I appreciate that about a person. I will be attending college for diving and work hard in every aspect of life, which I believe is an admirable quality. I feel that we could be a good match…_

Toni can’t help but cringe, “Is this a love letter or a business proposal?”

“You can be a real ass, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

_You are very beautiful, and I would like to get to know you more. Maybe we could get dinner together and see if there is potential for us romantically. Please let me know how you feel._

_All the best,_

_RR_

Toni doesn’t know whether to burst out laughing or crawl under a rock and die from the second-hand embarrassment. She doesn’t want to completely crush Rachel’s spirits, but she doesn’t exactly know how to sugarcoat things either. Why she expected some long-winded sappy gesture from one of the most serious, efficient people she has ever met now escapes her, but this… this was definitely not what she imagined. Nor was it something Shelby ever wanted to read. The Texan would be flattered and kind in her refusal, Toni was sure, but swept off her feet she would not be. Toni at least knew that much about her.

Setting the paper down in her lap, she turns to the diver, a thousand different replies forming on her tongue. “This is terrible,” is what comes out instead. Not the most tactful approach, but it’s out there now and she can’t take it back. She winces at the bluntness, silently cursing her own impulsiveness (not for the first time) as she watches Rachel stiffen. The diver immediately going on the defensive as her jaw shifts from side to side.

“What? Why?”

Toni chooses the simplest answer, “This doesn’t fucking sound like you at all.” Not a lie, but not exactly the full truth, and she mentally compliments herself for holding back the slew of insults that sprung to mind.

“It’s short and to the point, you said this is probably a lost cause anyway,” Rachel shoots back, pointing an accusing finger at the note in her lap.

“This would guarantee it to be a lost cause. I thought you actually liked her.”

Rachel throws up her hands in exasperation, voice rising, “Of course, I do! This shit is just not in my skillset. I don’t do the whole wooing thing.”

Holding her hands up in self-defense, Toni knows she needs to deescalate the situation. An unusual role for her but she guesses there’s a first time for everything, “Hey I get it,” and she does. Regan had pretty much taken control of their relationship right from the jump, and the girls after hadn’t really come around from any smooth talking or deliberate skill on her part. Toni wracks her brain for a slightly less brutal explanation, something that would convey the atrociousness of the letter without totally ruining Rachel’s morale, “It’s just… boring?” Nailed it.

Or close enough. Slumping back into the chair as her gaze fixates downward to her fingers that pick at invisible lint on her sweats, the diver seems to deflate. Damn. She must really like Shelby. Toni isn’t used to seeing Rachel so forlorn, the girl always stomping around with a straight spine and a chip on her shoulder that Toni begrudgingly respects. Guilt sinks like a stone into the pit of her stomach, weighing heavily as she struggles for words, mouth opening and closing not unlike a fish out of water. Which is kind of how she feels attempting to reassure someone she barely knows.

But before she can formulate what is sure to be an awkward effort reminiscent of an uncomfortable pat on the back, Rachel’s eyes flick up to meet hers and she snorts, “Fuck. It really is terrible isn’t it?”

Cool relief breezes along the back of her neck at the slight upward tilt of Rachel’s lips, “Pretty fucking bad.” Toni smirks, relaxing a little at the mood shift and letting her tone ease back into its more natural teasing state, “It might be the worst love letter of all time.”

“Alright, if you think you can do better why don’t you whip up some Dear John shit for me?” Rachel fires back instantly, leaning over to shove at Toni’s shoulder, and she lets herself nearly tip over. Partially for the dramatics and the way it brings a full smile to the diver’s face. But also, partially because god damn the girl is strong, what the hell is she putting in her Wheaties?

“Just because I want you to actually be able to show your face in public after this, I will do my best,” Toni promises, a matching grin breaking out across her own face. Even if this whole scheme blows up or ends in utter failure, getting to know Rachel a bit better wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“You’re still an asshole.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re paying me for this shit.”

-

It’s only when Toni arrives home that she realizes she the gravity of her promise. She stops in her tracks in the doorway with her coat half off. She is supposed to write a letter… from the perspective of someone she knows nothing about… to a girl she actively tries to offend on a daily basis. A letter worthy of a reply and one that just might, with any luck, convince a straight, religious zealot to consider giving a no-nonsense, superhuman athlete half a chance. _Fuck._

“Everything okay?” Bernice asks from the kitchen, that motherly concern pinching her brows.

“Yup!” Absolutely not.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter dedicated to freshhell. Happy Birthday! Thank you for being my betareader and I guess your friendship isn't too rough either;)


End file.
